I'm Already Dead
by zeldris
Summary: Juvia liked to think that high school was hard enough without compiling her newfound craving for brains into the mix. Top that off with the hot guy she's 99% sure is trying to kill her, and…oh yeah. She's dead. "I prefer undead, thank you very much." Zombiehood, and other huge problems.
1. night of the living dead

**gruvia zombie au haha how original Katie honestly just light yourself on fire k**

**oh yeah - it gets semi-graphic ish towards the end (brains n such, no violence just kinda grossness) just for a warning**

* * *

I woke up, inevitably, feeling like I had been sleeping for a thousand years.

Just to clarify – this was probably the only normal occurrence in my entire day.

I sat up heavily, with the weightyness that could only be compared to that of a brownie. What had happened last night? I was at Jenny's party…then something else happened…?

Ugh. The rest was all blank.

And unfortunately, as an attractive, young female, I knew exactly what that meant.

I looked down at my clothes, scratching at them like a crazed raccoon for holes or rips. I was definitely not at home, or frankly, anywhere near Jenny's house.

I was on a dock. A fucking dock. Like, as in there was a lake less than five feet out.

Judging from the lack of boats – it was probably Ghost Lake. I must've gotten a dare to sleep out here or something, the rumors of the haunted lake and its few survivors were popular lore around these parts.

I stood up, the unfamiliar weight of my body smacking me back down onto the wooden dock.

"Son of a bitch," I mumbled, blinking away the harsh sunlight and glancing at my arms like they were foreign tools.

_Ew. _I don't remember being this pale before, I could've sworn that Sherry's beach party had made me like 10% darker. But the sunlight begged to differ, and my skin tone was a close second only to copy paper or maybe baby powder.

It was probably just a bad angle of lighting, or whatever. My hand hit a damp spot on the dock and I slowly rose myself up to a standing position. Yup. Something had definitely went down last night. The good news was, I wasn't sore _'down there'_, just…groggy.

I lightly itched the back of my shoulder, something had gotten caught on the edge of my tank top.

My hand hit something warm and bumpy and I froze.

_What, in god's almighty hellfire was that?_

My hand grazed the spot again, it almost felt like…_holes _in my skin.

"What the _fuck?_" I said aloud, feverishly rubbing the abrasion, or laceration, on the back of my shoulder.

I raced to the edge of the dock hazily, looking down at my pale reflection, a once dazzling girl now with sunken eyes and dead, white skin.

"What the hell, what the hell," I whispered to myself, a repetitive mantra that kept me from screaming at the top of my lungs.

I turned around, peeling the strap of my tank top down to reveal the back of my violet bra so I could get a better look at the back of my shoulder in the lake water.

"Oh my god," I said, surprising myself by the sickness in my voice.

Some kinky freak _bit _me. Like, actually _bit a fucking __**chunk **__out of my skin. _

There was caked blood surrounding the unmistakable chomp mark – I had been Hanniballed. Jeffrey Dahmered. Eaten up.

"Oh _no_," I moaned, remembering something that would forever ruin my day.

"How the _hell_ am I supposed to wear bikini's?!"

* * *

Ok, so – the day kind of dragged on after that. I got home, with the overused cover story that I had slept over at Minerva's house – and took a three hour nap, because _god _was I tired, and sleep was the best scar-healing medicine.

The weirdest thing – it didn't hurt _at all. _I couldn't feel anything, actually. I could pinch myself till I bleed and the only thing that would hit my brain would be the sight of blood.

Good thing it was a Saturday. If this shit went down on a school day, I'd be gettin' some freaky stares from Yukino.

_Doo-doo-doo…doo-doo-doo-do-do-do._

I lazily grabbed for my phone and smacked the answer call button.

"Hello?"

"_Juvia? Where the hell are you? You totally disappeared last night – we all thought Zancrow, or Bora got to you!"_

I grimaced. Those two fuckboys were the last people I'd want to get caught with.

"Gross, no. I could fight both those guys off with my eyes shut. But…you actually have no idea what happened to me last night?"

"_No. Sorry. Where did you wake up? Maybe-"_

"Sorry Jen, I gotta go." I avoided the question, hanging up on her abruptly and smacking my face to stay awake.

_What in hell happened the night of the party?_

* * *

When I got to Walgreen's, I had pretty much lost all sense of dignity.

As in; my previous sensitivity to fashion had all but flew out the window, and I had decided to sport a good 'ol navy blue hoodie and my pair of 'I give up' sweatpants, reserved for the special purpose of math tests.

If any of my friends saw me like this, I'd be roasted on a spit.

Anyways, the parking lot was pretty much empty (thank god, can't have anyone from school seeing me like this) as I walked in inconspicuously.

Damn, I probably looked like a thief.

The only thing I picked up – and seriously, don't laugh at me – was a big, bag of sugar.

Like, granulated sugar. The stuff you toss in when you're baking a cake.

The cashier lady eyed me suspiciously, and, like a total bitch, I turned my pockets inside out like a snarky bitch. She looked a little bit guilty of suspecting me, but I moved on fast enough. I needed me some sugar.

When I got back into my car, I glared at the bag of sugar for a good twelve minutes.

What the hell was I even doing? I just bought some goddamn _sugar_ – we probably had some at home – but it was like I _needed _the stupid sugar. To…live. Or something.

I cautiously opened up the package, like a gremlin might pop out if I open it all at once.

I dipped a finger in experimentally, then subsequently licked it, only to find out, that that shit tasted _amazing. _Like, fucking ambrosia – it took every liter of my self control not to stick my head in like an animal.

_Ok Juvia, just calm down – you may or may not have just discovered god's cocaine – just stay calm, stay completely-_

But…I lost it. I began clawing scoops if sugar into my mouth like it was fucking crack and I like to imagine that anyone who may be outside my car is screaming for help.

But fucking chocolate scoops of cookie dough did that shit taste _fantastic. _

Soon enough, the sugar was gone. Well, scratch that, half of it was all over the bottom of my car, and my lap…and…everywhere.

I stared at my mess, so ashamed of myself I actually preferred a bloody car crash with seven casualties in my face than what I was looking at right now.

What the fuck is going on with me?

* * *

It was midnight.

It had all boiled down to this, a full day under my belt with strange occurrences, and I had a few theories.

1\. A new type of drug. I probably took it at the party, and now the after effects are hitting me.

This was my number one theory – I just had to find out whatever pill I had fucking snuffed and bust the guy's balls who gave it to me.

2\. I was pregnant.

My least favorite theory. I've actually never had sex – at least none that I'm aware of. Which is the reason I suspect it so much, I suppose. I'm not known for my ability to stay away from parties that include alcohol.

3\. I'm a vampire.

My favorite theory, actually. Although I've never heard of a vampire with a sugar addiction…

Oh yeah. I'm munching on that shit right now. _God _does it taste like Jesus's nipples.

Nonetheless, this list is what I came up with was narrowed down from the original one.

So, right now, I have a pregnancy test, and a phone number that I seriously wish I didn't have.

Also garlic.

I hit the dreaded contact's name with a lot of pent up frustration and waited for him to pick up.

"_Heeeyyy, Juvia, babe…been waitin' for you to call me, I knew you couldn't resist-"_

I rolled my eyes, catching a glimpse of my frontal lobe as I did so.

"Shut the fuck up Lyon, nobody gives a shit about you." I said harshly.

"_Yikes, somebody's bitchy. Got a dildo stuck up your-"_

Pleasant. "Lyon, listen. Do you have any…or _heard _of any… new…_stuff, _come on the market?" I asked quietly.

"_Hmm, damn hot stuff – after so much rejection, I never would of guessed you were into that stuff, ah well. Only makes you sexier in my eyes."_

Trust me. This is a _lot _more painful for me.

_"__-and actually, believe it or not – there's pretty much next to nothing. I've got all ears on the ground, and the only thing that's really up right now in distribution is some of the basics, you know-"_

"That's great, thanks Lyon." I interrupted, hitting end call with passionate vigor.

So, no to theory number one. Lyon was a dumbass – but he knew his drugs. Sadly.

Now…_ugh. _Pee stick time.

I threw the orange juice I had been drinking into the trash and waited for the familiar squeeze in my bladder. God, if my parents found out this is what I spent my nights doing, they'd kick me out.

After fifteen minutes, I spared no time hurriedly peeing on the dumb stick. But, it was all worth it. I was negative.

Plus, if I was raped today, I wouldn't have been showing the signs of pregnancy as violently as I have been. Number two is crossed off the list.

…

_Fuck. _

Those were my only two logical explanations. Now all I have is fucking garlic to account for.

It was going to be a long week.

* * *

On Sunday morning, I felt…sick.

Not necessarily 'sick' in the context of 'oh my god I'm gonna throw up' but in the context of 'I'm so tired I'm gonna pass out'.

I felt…angry too. Pissed off, like somebody took a shit on my hot fudge sundae.

I dragged myself downstairs, containing barely enough energy to breathe. I felt like I had miraculously aged an extra seventy years in one night.

I hit myself in the face with a cereal spoon and didn't even notice until my mom pointed it out. There was milk all over my hoodie and I didn't even wash it off – I just got in my car and _drove._

I hate driving. I actually despise it, which is why it was so strange that I was just driving it. I had no intention of going anywhere, but I was still _driving_. It was the weirdest thing, like my body knew where I was going, but my mind was having trouble getting caught up.

My hands jerked sideways, making an unexpected turn. If I remember right, I should be heading towards ghost lake right about now.

My mind whirred frustratingly slow, trying to remember what else could've happened. I had passed the point of no return, this was no longer a small problem. I looked like a mess, I felt like a mess, I _was _a mess. This was serious, and I needed answers, fast.

I guess answers wanted to find me too, because I pulled up next to an unfamiliar building shortly after.

_Cleary Point Funeral home._

What. The fuck.

I got out of the car, continuously mumbling various reasons as to why I showed up on the doorstep of dead body central. Maybe I was attacked here, or something? And my mind was subconsciously pointing me to the crime scene?

I wrinkled my nose and looked around, mostly to make sure that nobody that I knew was seeing me here.

Nothing, only a guy sitting at the park bench across the street.

A…shady looking guy, with a baseball cap tipped forwards, covering the remainder of his face. Sketchy.

I turned back around, holding my breath and charging forward into the funeral home.

The home was quiet, fitting for a place that housed dead people. Everything was white in color, and it smelled completely like formaldehyde. I strongly suspected that the person who worked here had to have little to live for.

I poked my head through a few doorways, to see if anybody was working. At first, I saw no signs of life (haha, puns), but then I heard some bustling past a back hallway and decided to go against every gut instinct I previously owned and followed after the sounds.

"Hello?" I called distantly, letting my hand linger on the silver doorknob before I inevitably turned it.

Nothing.

The room; aside from an old man's dead body, and various tools that looked like they were straight out of Saw, was empty.

Huh. I feel like this should be affecting me more than it actually is.

"Excuse me? Can I help you?"

I jumped ten feet in the air and clutched my heart dramatically, before looking behind me to see a small man with pointed features staring up at me.

"Uh-um. Well. You see, I'm…" I scanned the room to think of a fake name. "Juvia…Silver. And I'm extremely interested in your field of work. I'm…sorry for not letting you know in advance that I was coming, I'm just…_so _passionate about this job." I lied quickly, stealing a last name from the color of the table the dead body was on.

To my awe, he smiled widely. "My! It's been _so _long since a young lady took interest in my job! How lovely! I've been looking for a new intern, so to speak…to take on this job after I retire…" He drawled aimlessly. "How old are you exactly?"

Well, my face said seventeen, but my rack said twenty three.

"Twenty-one." I lied simplistically.

"Ah…perfect! This is simply excellent!" He clapped his hands together greedily and looked back at the body. "As you can see, we have a subject right now! He's almost ready, I just have to take some stuff to the incinerator and call my makeup artist in. Would you like a tour?" He babbled excitedly.

My eyes drifted back and forth, refusing to focus on anything. I felt like I was in a trance – what was I even doing here? I don't want to be a mortician!

"Um…I was actually wondering if I could see your process. At some other time, I guess, since you've already finished now…" I said, in a tone that hinted I had no intention of coming back.

Apparently, he didn't catch the hint.

"Well, I'm getting a fresh one tomorrow! What great timing! Say – I'll go get you a card so you can come in on weekdays. Feel free to look around!" He said cheerfully, making it painfully clear that he didn't get many visitors.

"Greeeaaat." I said through gritted teeth. He disappeared quickly and I almost tore a chunk of my hair out. _What _in christ's name drove me here? The charming lack of humanity? The persistent smell of death? The bag of…oh _god, _are those human _organs?_

Out of morbid curiosity, I glanced at the bag of meaty whatevers. A biohazard sign was on it, proving to me that it was indeed a bag full of flesh.

I think the worst part was the lack of shame I was feeling. For god's sake – this was some guy's fucking spleen! I shouldn't be gawking at it like it just spoke to me!

But…still. It was interesting. I couldn't take my eyes off of the bag.

Disgusting myself a bit, I poked the bag to see what it felt like. Coldness, I guess. A bit squishy too.

Good _god. _What the fuck am I doing? I am on the fucking highway to criminal minds if I keep standing here like this!

But it looks so…weird.

I began mentally listing off the organs I noticed, lungs, kidneys, all basic stuff from third grade health. Even the brain was there, all packed up tight in a juicy Ziploc bag – fit for the incinerator.

Without thinking, my hand shot out and grabbed the bag. Like, seriously. I didn't even do anything, but my fingers were latched around the top of the bag, almost like…

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh _fucking _no.

You see, it appears that at that moment I had reached the epitome of _hoe don't do it _in my life. Every cell, every atom was screaming to pull back, to _put the flesh bag down, goddammit_ but my mind wouldn't listen, or lack thereof, anyway. My fingers worked the seal until it popped open with the pungent scent of honors chem. class.

_Oh god oh god oh god oh god __**no **__no Juvia you fucking whore don't do it don't __**fucking **__do it._

My hand grazed something cold and wet and I almost threw up. But, my hand moved further down into the bag.

I swear to god – hands down worst moment in my life so far. I had my hand halfway shoved in a plastic bag o' human and I couldn't stop.

But I think the thing that horrified me most was that I _wouldn't _stop. Even if I could, I knew in the depths of my heart that I wouldn't.

My hands clasped something sharply, and pulled forwards with so much momentum I almost fell backwards on my ass.

The thing I was holding in my hands (which I was dreading to look down at) had a texture only comparable to cold jello, except…noodle-y.

My eyes frantically searched for a bag, something I could safely hide the thing in. I saw a stack of biohazard bags in the corner and thanked Lucifer for his contribution to the save-Juvia's-soul foundation.

Once I had safely deposited the thing in the bag without looking, I rushed over to the organ bag and sealed it shut once more, erasing any evidence of my looting.

My stomach sank to the depths of my abdomen as my eyes, slow fro fear, moved to look down at whatever I had just stolen.

_Please don't be anything important, please don't be anything important, oh please-_

When my eyes hit the bag, I abandoned any sense of pride or human dignity I had once wore.

For right at that moment, there was a human brain in my bag.

_Oh my god. _

My mouth began to open, probably so I could scream as loud as I could, but the mortician interrupted me.

"-and I have the keycard right here! The body should be here around noon, so if you can arrive anywhere around that time, you'll probably be able to catch the whole autopsy, depending on whether or not the family did it before hand. Anyways, I'm Makarov Dreyar, there are only two other people working here, so you won't have to worry about sticklers. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow then?" He spoke excitedly.

"Uh…yes! Of course!" My mouth uttered before I could process his sentence.

"Lovely. See you then!" He said, and I realized that I was already halfway out the door. Damn legs moving all on their own.

"Bye…" I said softly, looking down at the light bulge under y jacket.

_I just stole a fucking human brain._

I looked up again, making sure no one was around to suspect me of organ theft.

No one – except for that weird guy still sitting on the park bench. His dark eyes were fixed on me creepily, unwavering until a car drove in front of him, and then his eyes were back to the pavement.

"Damn pervert." I muttered, forgetting that I totally didn't look hot right now.

My car seemed even less inviting than I remembered, I slammed the door shut and took the brain bag out from under my coat.

It stared at me maliciously, laughing because it realized how screwy this was making my day.

I bit my lip, why in fucking hell did I want to _bite _it so bad? Oooh, what if I put some sugar on it? that'd taste _great-_

I stopped myself mid-thought, horrified by my eagerness to become a cannibal.

I absently ran my hand over the bite mark on my shoulder, realization dawning on me like the great depression.

"I'm a fucking _zombie._" I said, my voice high pitched an unnatural. "A goddamn, brain-eating, life-fucking _zombie. _Shit."

So it might've not been on my top ten list of reasons why I woke up at Ghost Lake. So what? Yeah, it was going to be different, serving my newfound appetite for grey matter, but I'd survive, right?

Kind of ironic, I guess. The dead girl vowing to survive. _Undead. _More like.

Hiding the brain in my purse, I started my car calmly and drove off, forgetting all about the guy on the park bench watching me leave.

Everything would be fine. This transition wouldn't kill me, after all –I'm already dead.

**next chap -gray and other stuff**

**also yeah leave reviews theyre grest honestly ily guys bye**


	2. izombie

Let me tell you right here and now – transitions are never easy.

In fact, the more drastic the transition, the more likely you are to end up in the back of a dumpster, not a shred of dignity lying in the piles of garbage that had become your makeshift grave.

Morbid. You see what this shit is doing to me? _God. _I used to be described as 'bubbly' and 'outgoing', but my social image had been all but demolished in the past, eventful weeks.

I shattered any and all contact with my friends, much to their chagrin. I disappeared from their lives similar to the way Lyon thought he could disappear into the shadows while he was obviously stalking me – quickly, and awkwardly, but still pretty much visible.

I couldn't even count how many missed calls I had. Just kidding, there's a blinking number 83 in the upper right corner of my phone icon, but I ignored it like I did Lyon's passionate obsession with me.

I had to give it to my friends – they were hell-bent on finding out what was wrong. Constant text messages, snapchats, DMs, calls, face-to-face confrontation, but I'd just sweep past them without even a 'hi'.

It was better for them. If I was going to live with this…zombie-ism, I sure as _fuck _wasn't going to take any of them with me; I'd die first.

I can guarantee it was harder for me, though. I was losing everything, my friends, my status, my whole _life. _All because some dick-bagged fucknut bit my shoulder blade like it was a pork tenderloin.

Well guess what, motherfucker. If there's anything I love – it's revenge, and you've got a big thing coming. My fist up your ass. And possibly a stab wound to the forehead.

So, although my life has ended, both figuratively and literally, operation find the fucker who maimed me is a go. All the while satisfying my perpetual hunger for brains.

Ok, I'm only going to answer this because I'm sure you're wondering.

Brains taste like…jello. Not jello flavor though, more consistency wise, of course it's more like old jello that got left on the counter and developed that weird filmy stuff on the top – that's what I mean. The taste…is…irony. Like metal, a bit. And tangy too…it's hard to describe because I've never really tasted anything like it before.

Of course, lately I've been dipping brains in sugar, which is an _awesome _combination. Forget chips and guacamole, Brains and granulated sugar is the hot new trend that has me on my knees.

Ew. I'm gross.

I'm still trying to get used to this whole pale thing too…I used to have a rather nice complexion, now I'm white chocolate trash dipped in powdered sugar. And no amount of tanning lotion and sitting out on my deck has come remotely close to fixing it. Not even a goddamn _sunburn_, and I actually fell asleep there too.

Back to the subject at hand, really the only thing that's going good right now is my brain supply. This Makarov guy may as well just be handing them to me personally with a fucking napkin and fork. It's so obvious that I have no experience in his field of expertise – but he still took me in like a baby bird and is already teaching me how to use buzz-saws and those tubey things. Normally, I would've been disgusted by these practices, but now I'm finding them kind of interesting. Did you know that mortician's shove cotton balls up people's assholes to keep them from leaking everywhere? Absolutely horrendous. It's _awesome. _

The last thing I've noted about being a zombie, actually, it really has nothing to do with being a zombie, just me in my struggles. I've noticed an abundance of that weird feeling you get that somebody's following you. And this is _extremely _weird, because I got that feeling a lot when I was actually alive. Granted, that was because Lyon always _was _following me, but that's beside the point.

I've postulated that someone has figured out my secret. Maybe someone saw me grift a brain, I don't know yet, but I should find them soon and inform them to keep their trap shut or I'll shut it for them as well as borrow their brain for a midnight snack.

I jingled my keys in my hands haphazardly, half expecting them to go flying meters away from me with the awkward tempo I had started up.

I was about to open my car door, when saw something move out of the corner of my eye.

I moved with freakish speed to defend myself, slashing my keys with unknown force and power.

It was nothing, of course. I had overreacted, no doubt. Just paranoid that someone might be trying to put an end to my brain eating nonsense.

Can you imagine? Someone straight up Daryl Dixoning me in the face because they thought I was a threat?

Psh. I'm about as threatening as a mouse in the water. At the moment, at least.

I stuck my key into my door and twisted, not letting up my guard for a second. Although the thought of me being shot executioner-style because I was a threat to humanity seemed unreal now, I shouldn't get my hopes up. The population won't be too keen on sharing the world with me if they ever find out, that's for sure.

I was about to get in my car when something stopped me. The classic cracking of a branch.

My back straightened and I whirled around, only to get a face full of black t-shirt.

My shriek was cut off by the said shirt, squishing over my open mouth annoyingly. The attacker smashed my wrists against the hood of my car violently, and I know for sure that if I was alive, I would be feeling the pain of double broken wrists.

The person pushed my chin down so I was looking up towards the stars, away from his face. I knew he was a guy – broad shoulders, taut muscles, and everything. The kind of guy I would've flirted with mercilessly back when I was living. Ah, youth.

He pressed my wrists down harder as I began to kick him, aiming for the sweet-spot all girls knew to go straight for. He shoved a knee against my legs with astounding strength. I was cornered, like a fox in a bear trap.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, with remarkable passion. "I'm so sorry."

I felt my eyes widen as he pressed something against the side of my head, cold and hard. I began gasping, even though I had no need to breathe. Was I going to die? Seriously? After all that Walking Dead hype, or whatever? I'm getting slayed in front of the stupid funeral home, my body probably getting tossed into Ghost fucking Lake?

My breath became labored as he pressed a teensy bit harder against my head.

Yes, he was definitely trying to kill me.

At the pinpoint of my demise, I felt carnal fury tear through me – there was no way I was going to die now, not yet. I had to find the guy who did this to me – revenge trumps all.

I screamed, loud. My hands began to shake and I started losing control of my body, like I was having a freak seizure.

The guy cursed and let loose a bit of the pressure he had been putting on my head. I felt control of my limbs return and I started breathing normally.

My face twisted weakly, trying to get a good look at this guy's face. He said sorry – he must have at least a shred of remorse. Sure, I wasn't alive, but I was still technically a person! An _undead _person.

"Please," I moaned, trying to draw out something, _anything. _Pity perhaps.

He faltered, his knee dropping a bit. I kicked out at his shin, hitting my target expertly. He cursed once more and pushed me back. The weapon touched my head and I squeezed my eyes shut, positive I was going to die. Again, I guess.

"Please don't," I whispered pathetically, pretty much begging for him to spare me.

He growled in frustration – I was getting to him.

"I _have _to," he finally muttered.

I blinked away invisible tears, I guess being a zombie meant giving up your tear ducts.

"I don't want to die."

I knew instantly my words had struck him, hard. I didn't even try to struggle, I just laid there, defeated.

"You…you already are." He reasoned, not sounding too convinced. His unrelenting grip on my wrists tightened slightly.

"No," I said, trying to convince myself more than I was trying to convince him. "No I'm not!"

"You _are_." He pressed, night shadowing his face. I could almost make out the features, angular jaw, dark eyes…

"I didn't ask to be this way," I whimpered, diving straight into the assumption that he knew I was a zombie.

"None of us did," He growled.

_Wait a second…_

_Us?_

"You're…" I trailed off, his grip on my wrists becoming unbearable. With an awkward shriek, I barreled forward with surprising strength and threw him off of me. My body moved robotically, standing in a defensive position once I was a safe distance from my attacker.

Once he recovered, he wiped his mouth and turned to face me.

"W-what the hell, dude?!" I squeaked anxiously. "I didn't do anything to you!"

"Shut up!" He roared, lunging. I swiftly sidestepped unconsciously, avoiding his attack.

"You're one of us! Leave me alone!" I shouted, sounding a lot more like myself as I dodged another one of his jumps.

"Hold still, dammit," he swore, diving for me again. "You're only making this harder for yourself."

"Shut up, you zombie!" I insulted childishly, growing cocky at my newfound fighting abilities. I guess adrenaline does that to you.

Wait…do I even have adrenaline? Weird…

"I'm only doing this for the good of humanity!" He made a swipe at me with the weapon he had been pressing against my head, which I now realized was a screwdriver.

Gross. He had planned on skewering my brains into a kabob.

"Pull your head out of your ass! We're both undead, we need to work together!" I shouted, ironically, because I lunged for him at the same time.

"I'm not like you!" He yelled, in the most heroically cliché of matters.

"Hey! I get brains from a _funeral home_, dammit! Get off my back, it doesn't get much better than that!" I yelled right back.

He stopped for a moment, breathing halted and a cool, calm look on his face.

"It's nothing personal…I'm just trying to protect everyone." He clarified.

Ugh. So he is playing the 'hero zombie' card.

"Fuck you, I wanna be the mercenary zombie!" I blurted out.

His eyes crinkled together. "What?"

"I said, _I _want to be the mercenary zombie! I want to kill other zombies for the good of humanity, what makes you think you're the right guy to do it?" I argued, annoyingly.

"The _fuck _are you on about? You don't just get to choose the path you take!" He argued back, putting a halt at his attempt to mince me.

"Sure you do! I'm the mercenary zombie now, I think _you _need to die!" I turned the tables like a four year old with a remote hostage.

"Ok, just shut up! This is ridiculous…just…momentary truce." He declared, fisting his hands in his dark locks and sighing.

I slowly lowered my fists, to show that I would comply with his suggestion.

"Ok…ok…let's just…calm down, and just…relax." I said, slowly, like he was in a reading and comprehension class for struggling nine year olds.

"Yeah, yeah…good idea…" He breathed, pushing his now tousled hair out of his eyes. Sexy.

"So…I don't really know where we go from here…" I began awkwardly, rolling my hands in a story-telling fashion.

"Let's…" he said, glancing around for onlookers, even though it was probably close to midnight, "go get some…food."

My eyebrow raised in suspicion. We were both zombies here, and mealtime was kind of the elephant in the room.

His eyebrows shot up and he began swiping his hands in front of him, trying to erase his previous statement. "No, no! Like…people…food." He repeated.

"Ok," I agreed, but my eyes fluttered to the screwdriver, still tightly clenched in his hand. "Maybe you should just…put that down…"

"Right!" He agreed, chucking it as far as he could (which, with zombie strength, was like…mega-far) and holding his hands up to show he was unarmed.

"So…I'm Juvia…" I said, awkwardly holding out my hand to shake.

"Gray." He said, taking my hand and shaking it. "Let's go."

* * *

"How many sugar packets did you take?" He asked, glancing down at the now-empty centerpiece, which had once been filled to the brim with tiny packets of granulated goodness.

"Like nine." I whispered shamefully, looking down at the stash in the pocket of my jacket.

"Seven." He responded, holding up a sample packet from his jeans pocket.

The diner was, of course, at this time of night, fairly empty, save the couple by the corner booth and two old men at the bar.

We had both just ordered a water since food had practically no appeal anymore. Hell, water didn't really have any appeal either, but we didn't want to be rude and just loiter the hell out of this place.

Gray, who was sitting across from me, tapped his leg up and down anxiously. Looks like he had been hit with restless zombie leg syndrome.

He really was an attractive guy. I felt bad that someone as hot as him (or me, for that matter) were stuck eating temporal lobes for the rest of our miserable existences.

He had dark, chopped hair that swept over his eyes in the most supermodelish of ways, and tight, sexy muscles that I wanted to quite literally pour sugar all over and then lick it off. And that with absolutely no reference to the song. I just really like sugar. And his abs, probably.

"So," he began, "how'd it happen?"

I assumed he must've been talking about my zombie transformation, or whatever we're calling it, so I technically didn't have an answer for him.

"I woke up with a bite on my shoulder, by the lake." I gestured to Ghost Lake, which was but a few blocks from the diner itself.

His eyebrows knit together. "Really? That's…interesting…" he looked down, like he was trying to compute something in his head, "where exactly did you wake up?"

"The north dock." I answered hesitantly. "Why?"

He shook his head in disbelief. "I woke up there too, a scratch on my leg, only I was by the old beach."

My eyes widened. It was way to weird to be a coincidence; something about our zombie-ism had sprouted from the lake.

"Are there," I looked around to double check that no one was eavesdropping, "others? Like us?"

Gray gave me a shameful look before turning away. "Well…there _were _some, but I kind of…"

My eyes popped out momentarily. "You _killed _them? Why?"

"They were trying to kill a human! I _had _to…" he answered quietly. I bit my lip and sat back as the waitress gave us our water.

After she left, I experimentally began pouring my sugar packets into the water, and then began mixing it with my straw. I was a regular fucking butterfly.

Gray, puzzled, mirrored my actions. Sugar water, to us, I guess, was the equivalent of a margarita, except we don't get drunk. We don't really have a brain that can be curb-stomped by the alcohol, is my best guess as to why. Also, fun fact: zombies do bleed, but not that much. It's kind of weird.

"Holy shit this is good," Gray murmured, making sweet love with his mouth to the straw. That's cute, he hasn't experimented with sugar.

"I know. I've been messing around with flavors, but so far, this and brains are the only things that can actually awaken my taste buds." I said dorkily.

"Same. I wonder if it's that way for all zombies…" He mused aloud.

"Maybe we'd know, if you wouldn't have _murdered _them all." I accused light-heartedly. It was actually really nice to share some of my zombie experiences with someone who _got it._

"Sorry, sorry. It's all part of the job. You do realize that there's no way this can spread, right? It ends with you and me – we're a team now." He said in all seriousness.

"So what, are we like the zombie Charlie's Angels now? Or double-o-zombie? Or-"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it." He cut me off, not in the mood for my clearly hilarious references.

"Alright, so we're the Mulder and Scully of the zombie world. All we have to do is find patient zero and wack 'im, right? Then we're done." I summed up quite well.

He looked at me oddly, like I wasn't understanding something, before the look disappeared completely.

"Yeah, pretty much. Are you in? Also, if you don't say you're in I'm going to have to kill you. It's nothing personal, just part of the job." He joked with a blinding smile.

Except, he really wasn't joking, was he?

"I'm in. Death to the zombies." I cheered with sarcasm, clinking my sugar water against his and taking a large swig.

Hey – just because I was undead didn't mean that I didn't get to hang out with hot guys. All it meant was that my dating pool was limited to this one guy.

And I have _literally _no problems with that.

**gray vs. juvia lol**

**short introductory chapter, but yeaaahhh pretty much zombie gray and juvia versus bad guy zombies yay its gonna be fun af**

**review responses 3**

* * *

AsDarknessSpreads: haha suck it gruvia will consume you even if I have to force u into the fandom myself ahahahaha ily

Chessie626:thankss hope u like this chap too!

Kiri: (IM OBSSESSED WITH U BY THE W AY PLEASE GIVE ME YOUR TUMBLR SO I CAN TALK TO YOU OTHERWISEI MIGHT CRY?! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH OH MY GOSH) and yeah also I should probably start the actual heads or tails chapter im a procrastinating nerd

Guest: I will! yay this is impressive an actual second chapter!

hotrodren: I really did try. thank u

Kiri: actually had no idea it was juvia appreciation day, but lets totally pretend I did that on purpose yaay ily please date me


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